A Silent Love
by Velvetine
Summary: [DannyFlack] a little story about how they fell in love. summary is crap, just read the story.


**Author:** Velvetine

**Title:** A Silent Love

**Rating:** PG-15

**Pairing:** Danny/Flack

**Content Warning:** slash, mentions of sex

**Spoilers:** none

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. (the show would be mega-slashy if i did!)

* * *

The beginning had been neither epic nor grand. It had not been one of those 'love at first sight' moments. The attraction had not hit them like lightning streaking across the sky, nor had it knocked them off their feet or the wind out of their lungs, but it had been a beginning none the less. It had started with a simple handshake, an exchange of names as they looked the other up and down, appreciating each other's physique with a chaste approval, standing in the lobby of Manhattan's twelfth precinct.

In the first week, they had opened up, identifying with one another and finally taking a conversation further than greeting or details about the crime. Don Flack was fresh out of the Police Academy, having just received his detective status, while Danny Messer had two years of experience under his belt after completing a degree in chemistry. They were both young, handsome, determined and they both had something to prove.

Danny, who had always had a large mouth and the tendency to express his emotions and feelings when it wasn't entirely necessary, grew up in an Italian family from Brooklyn, which was well connected to the mafia. His father, a significant member of the crime family, had never gotten his hands dirty to be arrested but during certain periods, the family was kept under surveillance. Danny and Louie had been close as brothers, mischief and verve running thick in their veins as they wreaked havoc in the neighbourhood. His childhood and youth had been lived under the watchful eye of his father who wanted nothing more than for his sons, Danny and Louie, to take over the family's business after he had retired. However, Danny had developed a keen sense of justice and had decided that he would go on to work in law enforcement. Their father-son relationship had been smooth and balanced when Danny was young, but as he grew older it became more taut; the tension due to a difference of characters, and not the fact that Danny had other plans for his future. Much to his chagrin, his father accepted that Danny take his mother's maiden name knowing that the son of an important mobster would never have it easy in the world of law enforcement., a world of which he could never understand the reason his son had sought to be a part. As soon as Danny had received his high school diploma, he enrolled himself as a double-major student at NYU, taking chemistry and criminal psychology, subjects which had always been a passion. He didn't know where this fascination with chemistry or criminals came from, he usually linked it to having been brought up in the family he belonged to and seeing everything he had. Danny hated that so many murders went unsolved and was ready to dedicate himself to the science which would eventually produce enough evidence to convict the sly perpetrators. His university years were written off as a nice story, graduating magna cum laude and immediately getting accepted into the Police Academy. After a short training programme and graduating top of his class, Danny finally received his well-earned badge and started what would be an illustrious career in the NYPD.

Don, on the other hand, had a tendency to keep everything to himself, save the snaky, sharp remarks he seemed to make off the top of his head. Flack was raised in a blue-collar Irish family on Staten Island who worked hard for every dollar. They hadn't been poor, but a beat cop's salary couldn't afford luxury so his mother had taken up a job as a part-time teacher. I was obvious at birth that Don would follow in the footsteps of generations of Flacks before him, and join the police force. It had been something of a predestined future, one that Don never bothered to question, one that flowed deep in his veins. Don did pretty well in high school, but instead of pursuing his interest for history and international relations, he integrated the Police Academy. He continued to be a big reader, fuelling his passion for the aforementioned subjects through an intense submersion into books on the side to his daily training. However, it was evident that his real passion, like any Flack's, lay in justice and law enforcement. It wasn't a haphazard incident that Don Flack graduated top of his class in the Police Academy and went on to be mentored by a respected officer, Gavin Moran. All through his time as a beat cop, Don learned keenly; he took in every lesson and put it to good use. The Flack name was well known amongst the policemen, but Don had made a name for himself as a brash, witty cop who was going places.

The lanky boy had grown into a tall, dark and handsome man, not to mention his strong, unwavering character and his tireless, brazen and obstinate nature which made truly made him one of New York's finest. After the four obligatory years, and without breaking a sweat, Don passed the exam and became a homicide detective, viewing his job as a way of making New York City a better place.

Both of them had something to prove. Danny needed to prove to the world, and especially to his father, that good triumphed in the end, that justice was fair, and that he could be a remarkable detective despite his less than honourable background. Don yearned to prove to the world, and especially his father that he could be the best detective, and that he was worthy of the respect showered on the generations of Flacks before him. Don wanted to show his father that he could walk in his footsteps, maybe even go farther than those before him. Don wanted to outdo his old man. Danny, on the other hand, wanted his father to accept him and have some moral value. They both viewed their fathers from slightly exaggerated critical angles, but they were both ready to work hard to achieve their goals.

Danny and Don made a exceptional team. Together, they could cracked open a case with such an ease that the other duos were put to shame. Danny, exploiter of crime scenes and evidence would get everything he could out of everything around which he got his hands. He could put people at the crime scene and the weapon in their hands. Don, manipulator of words and minds twisted so tight he managed to extract confessions out of even the most stoic perp. The intensity in his eyes made it clear to everyone that he was not joking around, and the more resistant were often tricked into spilling information. The duo was an efficient, marvellous and unique thing. Anyone would be hard-pressed to find a more competent pair who also matched in team spirit.

The two had started to see each other more often after work. It was becoming routine for one to be at the other's apartment even after long double shifts. Between the hockey, baseball and football nights, the long NYPD shifts and chilling at a bar, Danny Messer and Don Flack hardly left each other.

Their inseparability didn't pose any annoyances, but the contrary. Each on their own side, Danny and Don had started to notice sensations and emotions they felt for the other. It had been easier to swallow than they thought it would have been. After all, admitting that you were falling in love with your male colleague and best friend was new to both of them. Acknowledgement was not the main problem though, the problem was whether the other, and the world could accept it too. This thought kept each of them at bay, afraid to make the first move.

Both the dirty blonde and the ebony-haired detectives feared that their fantasy was irrational and unrealisable. The trepidation was so intense that the thought of hit felt as if their hearts were being pulverised. Each wanted, with an insatiable mania, to declare their love, but what if it all fell back down around them?

Soon after realising and accepting how they truly felt, which was remarkably around the same period of time, the conversation between them became ambiguous and saturated with metaphors. Each of them tried to convey hints and secret meaning to the other, but was so engrossed in sending them out that they never detected the other's attempts. Call it bad luck, but both of them slowly grew disheartened that their endeavours had been fruitless. The frustration was killing their hopes, slowly, painfully, mercilessly. But neither Don nor Danny were quitters, and neither of them was ready to surrender that easily. How could they bow down in defeat when a small spark of hope still existed? How could they yield when they had not exhausted all possibilities? How could they give up on love?

Slowly, the endless work shifts seemed entirely too short, the sports matches too brief and the rare moments or relaxation at a bar too fleeting. None of them wanted to leave, each desperate for a way, _any _way, to lengthen their time together. All the time they spent together could not suffice, both Danny and Don knew it . Danny became irritable and touchy whenever he was paired with anyone but Don, hence earning the reputation of someone with whom it was difficult to get along. Don found himself snappy, sarcastic and curt, but he had always been better at controlling his emotions feeding the illusion that all was well.

Between the two of them, Danny and Flack had probably bedded half of Manhattan and were hot property. But even in someone else's embrace, it was difficult to chase the thoughts and fantasies of the other man from their minds. Danny dreamed of sprawling out aside the tall detective, waking up to find their limbs entangled and staring at his reflection in Don's expressive sapphire eyes. Don's reveries consisted of falling asleep between the CSI's deliciously muscled arms and wanting nothing more than to stir at a soft, delicate kiss from Danny's rosy lips. To their great astonishment, both the men were discovering a budding romantic within them. Perhaps it was not just the outside that they had feared. Perhaps the true source of trepidation had been the nascent romantic who threatened to make them vulnerable, who threatened to break their hearts into a million little shards of bitterness and woe.

The declaration of love had not been poetry, eloquently and secretively whispered on a moonlit balcony; it had not been a shouted avowal at the top of eager lungs, or an articulate love letter. Their declaration had been all their own, it had been so powerful and moving, the moment when the world stops turning and the second hand is paralysed in the gap where a instant bleeds into the next.

One night, across a glass at Sullivan's, Don was keenly studying Danny, who was currently immersed in some scientific conversation with Sheldon Hawkes. Don voraciously drank in the dirty blonde CSI's appearance: those eyes, alight with a million fires passionately burning as only they did when he talked of science and abstract theories. He studied Danny's lips, pink, deliciously so, pouty and slightly wet from his habit of licking them. There was also the white shirt, clinging to his muscular body so perfectly and, that Don noticed, had just enough buttons open for Danny's curly chest hair to peek out teasingly. It occurred to Don that he was being less than subtle, so he got up and headed to the bar.

Danny turned his head to better appreciate the view. His eyes followed the contours of the Don's form, the lean body , long legs and broad shoulders and his ass. And what a fine ass it was! Danny thought he had felt Don's eyes on him seconds earlier. He could have sworn he was being stared at with an emotion he could only describe as..._hunger_. He returned to his conversation with Sheldon, telling himself he had an over active imagination and that Don hadn't been looking at him: Don had simply been looking straight ahead.

At the bar, Don felt a shiver down his spine and felt as if someone was watching him very closely. It felt as if invisible hands caressed his figure, admiring him. Without turning his head, he looked over at the table where Danny and Hawkes were sitting from the corner of his eye. He thought for a second there that he had caught Danny eyeing him, but the fleeting moment passed and he shook it off. He was just hallucinating. And hallucinations were dangerous.

Just like Danny, Don preferred to keep these little fantasies, like small trophies, for later when they were in the security of their apartment and feared no consequence. It was only when they were finally alone that they confronted their seemingly irrational fancies, murmuring the name of the other to the deaf walls.

The scientists had not yet finished talking when Don sat back down in his chair, opposite Danny. It was his eyes, of their own accord, that resumed the staring. They flitted, taking in every detail they could seize. Don studied the blonde's beautifully mesmerising blue eyes, and that was when it happened. Don was admiring the long eyelashes when, while lowering his gaze, their eyes met. Don's eyes were met with an intense gaze.

Danny had been talking to Sheldon when he was taken by the whim to indulge in his favourite eye candy. His focus had shifted to Flack and he had caught him red-handed! Don had been _ogling _him! Everything was confirmed in the brief second during which their eyes locked.

That fleeting moment, their eyes connecting unashamedly, told them everything. Everything they had ever needed, _wanted,_ to know; and it was everything they needed to move forward. The glance told them that neither was homosexual, and that the emotions were simply stronger than them. They understood that it was not a little crush; it was a young love that had secretly grown, untended, for too long. They felt the fear that had kept either one from declaring their feelings.

They understood it was a fear of loss. A fear of losing their friendship.

Both men recognized the fear of being discovered; sure, society was more open but they were NYPD, and NYPD didn't go that way. No same sex couple would last in the NYPD, and the department was open about its intolerance, too.

The look conveyed the notion that their love was secret and personal, and that no one needed to know. They did not need to announce it to the world, they could have their own world.

-0-0-0-

A little while later, Hawked excused himself, paid and left. Danny and Don entertained a regular conversation but the atmosphere was tense; they were both waiting for the next step. The real conversation was taking place between the two pairs of crystal blue eyes, and it was the best conversation either one of them had ever had. All that, and not one word.

-0-0-0-

Danny turns over in the bed to face Don, whose arm is slung around his waist. It's night and he's completely naked and absolutely satisfied. He makes contact with Don's blue eyes, hazy and dark like the ocean, that, just a few minutes ago, were lapping up his muscular back.

Flack's eyes are hard to read and Danny feels strange. He doesn't quite know what to say, or do. He puts an arm around his lover as he thinks of where to go from here.

He opens his mouth, but shuts it just as fast, licking his lips out of anxiety. Maybe this is all they wanted: a quick fuck and a cuddle and maybe now it was all over. They could go back to work and pretend nothing ever happened. It could be that easy, all they had to do was walk away. If they wanted.

But it wasn't what _he _wanted, what about Don? He glances upwards into the other man's eyes. Carefully gauging the emotions.

And he doesn't see it.

Danny doesn't see Flack's repulsion. He doesn't see that Flack is content with sex and ready to walk away.

He sees that the man loves him without words, like he loves him back. They love with looks as their medium, through stolen, earned, hidden, obvious glimpses. There were no words to describe it. Theirs was a mute love.  
  
La Fin

**A/N**: i wrote this piece a while ago and didn't like it enough to post it but, seeing as i had been neglecting my fave NY boys, i decided to finish it. thanks to Jen for being my beta half. lol, excuse the pun. :D (and btw, all background thingys are made up and unverified. lol)


End file.
